


Happy Accident

by Shatterpath



Series: Sassy, Snarky, and Sexy [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Epic, F/M, Female Protagonist, Peggy's tornado story, Pregnancy, Tumblr Prompt, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 13,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy is cooped up in London and fighting some salacious rumors.</p><p>In the end, good news and a wonderful change makes it all worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter was added well after I was deep into this part of the saga as I wanted a solid start on some historical context, time passing and where Peggy was, mentally. This part of the larger Saga will be ever more Peggy-centric as she has always been the central thread of this tale.

Spring became summer and the days grew long and ever more dangerous. London quaked and crumbled beneath the hateful assault of the Third Reich. Rationing tightened, the numbers of wounded and dead grew and grew; the civilian casualties rivaling the soldiers. It was a constant meat-grinder hell too many felt like would never end as the days dragged on.

But the Allies would not back down.

Like all of London, Peggy was effectively trapped, locked down in the stinking, overcrowded shelters deep underground. The government had been forced to cram all official functions into three tunnels so the other five could be opened to try and save some of London's shattered people. Even with the tons of earth separating them from the general populace, the reality of what was happening was a stone around every civil servants' neck. And so many new faces had brought some unexpected problems as well.

The SSR personnel had pretty much taken to ignoring any connection Peggy may or may not have to the Howling Commandos… and Captain America. As much as gossip was the only entertainment they had in the sunless, close confines, it wasn't worth the trouble it would bring down from Colonel Phillips. Not so with the mixed bag of new Allied personnel now underfoot. They were far more inappropriate and would take time to fear Phillips; who himself was a very busy, very irritated man. Peggy hated that she-- however inadvertently-- had anything to do with adding to his stress.

It didn't help that someone had figured out that final night of the Commandos visit all those weeks ago, that the figure riding piggyback on Dum Dum Dugan with an ill-fitting jacket and hat thrown haphazardly over them? Had been Peggy herself. At the time she had been completely amused with the whole drunken, jackass, laughing hyena pack of them trying to discretely smuggle her into the hotel to spend a final night with Steve. It irritated her to no end that warm memory of comradery was now tainted by bored morons who really should be putting their limited mental resources to better use. 

Though she couldn't deny the visceral satisfaction of hearing how Betsy had decked some mouthy idiot over the ugly whispers about 'the Commando's whore'. It was a relief that someone had her back even if the older woman had spent a few days in the brig for it. The wanker had gotten his sorry arse in a sling with his chain of command and things had quieted down since. By staying out of it, Peggy neither fed nor shut down the rumor and leaving others to do it had worked. As much as she hated not fighting her own battles, sometimes discretion really was the better part of valor.

It also helped smokescreen the truth of her relationship with Steve. As did a resurgence of the tale of her shooting at the newly-minted war hero to test the vibranium shield. 

"Really, Betsy, one would think these idiots actively hated me," Peggy said with sarcastic irritation, knowing that some of said idiots were in earshot. "Since their salacious rumors could very well put my life in danger."

Horrified, the cook paused in smearing margarine over her crumbly toast. "Danger? What on earth do you mean, Peggy?"

"What if a Hydra agent were to believe them? And I were targeted? Yes, that would most definitely put me on Captain Roger's radar, and not in a good way. Really, I wish people would think."

Betsy made a noncommittal noise, her irritation and worry quite plain, and the women ate in companionable quiet until the troublemakers finally left. 

"'Bout damn time," Betsy growled and Peggy grinned wolfishly.

"The next time we'll deal with them differently before hiding the bodies."

"Sounds like an excellent plan."

Gallows humor well established, the women shared a wry look and returned to their meal in better spirits.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ugh, it hardly seems fair to spend winter in the field and summer underground," Peggy complained with no heat as she stood to stretch her aching back. Really, these last few months were doing their right damnest to make her feel old and sore. Doubtless the constant dank and damp conspiring with the twin stars of scar in her shoulder. It had taken forever for them to really heal, and even now the constant ache hadn't ever truly left her, nor the fatigue and intermittent nausea and odd hunger and thirst.

How desperately Peggy missed sunshine and the crunch of fresh greens in her mouth and the press of Steve's hot skin to hers. A thousand little things that conspired to increase the pressure of the illness symptoms she seemed unable to shake.

Making a noncommittal sound, Janet Loraine thumped down the latest stack of codes and reports from the field and stood silently at loose, slightly disinterested attention. She'd learned very early on that quiet and a faint air of indifference was the best policy around Carter. The one time she'd inadvertently brought herself to the dark woman's attention-- but really, who could blame her for taking a crack at that man when she had the chance-- she'd clearly been lucky. After all that story was legendary now, how Carter had shot at Rogers. Point blank. Four times.

Janet was very careful to fit her behavior to the British woman after that.

It had worked better than Janet could have hoped for and she was not only rarely in fear of her life anymore, but was one of the few who was around Peggy Carter enough to understand how she ticked. Well, as much as anyone did anyway. Oh, they weren't friendly, hell, Carter wasn't really friendly with anybody, but Janet made herself useful and learned through quiet observation.

And she was pretty damn sure that she was picking up on something below the surface, and she wasn't talking about these tunnels she was going to have nightmares about for the rest of her life, either. Part of her ongoing experiment was just arriving in fact. One good thing about working with the SSR is that none of them ever went hungry. In fact, they often got treats that were positively indecent in the face of the ever more repressive rationing necessary to keep the United Kingdom fed. As there was no planting crops in the London deep-level shelters, there were always crates of fruit and veg amidst the stores boxes and Janet had connections among the quartermasters and took ruthless advantage whenever possible. 

With that lovelorn puppy expression perpetually on his face, Harry had appeared with a cardboard box and a dopey smile. It was worth keeping him strung along for this alone and Janet discretely slipped away to thank the big ox, give him a flirty wink and send him on his way. Once she divested him of the box, of course. Before anyone else could even figure out the goodies were there, or even sniff them out, she pulled the best out to stash in her usual spot beneath her desk in a locked trunk until the ravening hordes had dispersed. Only then did she dig in to slop together hearty sandwiches with real butter and that tinned beef Phillips loved but made her shudder and relatively fresh vegetables roughly chopped with a utility knife she kept in the trunk. And Harry, bless his simpleton heart, had come through again with her favorite; ripe, juicy oranges, an even half dozen.

Now, Janet Marie Loraine had grown up in a tiny town in Illinois and was as ruthless about her things as she was about her people. There was a reason Chester Phillips kept her around and it wasn't her wholesome good looks. Lord knew he grumbled about the strings of besotted boys that trailed around after her like lost ducklings. But they gave him something to yell at and she was damn good at all the little behind the scenes things that any CO needed gettin' done. And even wartime London was better than rural Illinois. 

Bacon and beans with biscuits for a later dinner then, she decided as she locked down her stash. If she could steal a corner of the makeshift kitchens long enough to get the savories fried up before the smell drew hungry vultures. That'd keep her deadly duo going and if they actually knocked off, god forbid, they'd get more sandwiches come tomorrow. Lather, rinse, repeat. With quick hands, she peeled, separated and pitted one orange, because if she didn't, Peggy would ignore it, but left the other untouched because Chester was weird like that. Though at least most of the pits made it into his trashcan. From her ruthlessly controlled stash came tin plates and the newer plastic silverware that was so much easier to wash and didn't rasp horribly against a person's teeth. Again, anything to make sure her own ate regularly. 

Carter had become one of hers by default. And it was entirely Chester's fault too. The woman wasn't really likeable, though she was impossible to dislike either, but she was amazing and intimidating and endlessly interesting. Thankfully, she seemed to be just as oblivious to the subtle care as the boys were, so Janet just carried on as she always did, quietly competent and getting her kicks where she could.

Ah well, at least she got to kiss Captain America once and get out of it alive.

The food barely garnered a grunt from Phillips, but the sandwich was in his mouth almost as fast as Peggy grabbed hers, the plate hardly having a chance to make a clack against the huge map table. It was fascinating to watch the Englishwoman eat, because contrary to her neat, carefully cultivated appearance, she wolfed food down like a starving street dog. None of it shocked Janet, as she'd been in London long enough now to get a feel for what these people had been through for a great many years and with no relief from it on the horizon any time soon. 

"Tart one, huh?"

It might be the first time Janet had the guts to tease Peggy Carter, but the look on her face when she bit into the first halved orange wedge was hilarious. If she'd snuck in a chunk of lemon she'd hardly have gotten a better reaction. Chewing with typical English stoicism, Peggy doggedly began working her way through the fruit, but was clearly not enjoying it the way she normally did.

"These are awful, I have to confess. Here, try one."

Startled and sorta pleased with the friendliness, Janet willingly moved closer and took the offered piece, chewing thoughtfully. "It tastes fine to me."

Groaning and stretching out her back, another thing Carter'd been doing a lot lately, she actually chuckled and flashed the younger woman a smile. "It must be me then. I swear nothing has tasted right since I was shot."

And that was the final piece to the puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to confess that I had fun with Private Loraine. Because, let's face it, she is pretty much an OC to write for, as we know nothing about her. But I ask myself questions like, 'why would Phillips put up with the hassle of such a pretty secretary? Because he doesn't strike me as the shenanigans sorta guy.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, the crux of the problem.

"Sir, the LT is acting weird."

Perpetually treading water above all the shit that had to be done to keep the SSR running, Chester Phillips was a gruff, impatient man and not the sort to suffer fools; but he tolerated the hassle of a pretty secretary because she was damn good not just at the job, but keeping an eye out for subtleties around her.

"Weird how?"

Though if she didn't stop looking at him with that, 'stop being obtuse, old man,' face he'd had quite enough of when his own kids had been teenagers, he'd toss her ass on to the next bird back to Illinois personally.

"Weird sir." 

Impatience must have shown on his face, because Janet huffed and raised her hands to start ticking points off on her fingers. "She's tired all the time, no matter how much she sleeps, and the arm is fine except for that hour or so after she first wakes up and she's stiff and irritable. She's moody, but hides it well and I'll swear she's put on just enough weight to be an itsy-bitsy bit noticeable, though her eating habits haven't changed outside of what I've quietly forced on her. Unless Betsy and Martha are overfeeding her and, frankly, Carter's not the sort to indulge. No else except me or maybe Betsy would even notice any of this, Carter's too damn stoic for that, but I'm willing to bet that I'm right."

Phillips was struck with an insane flashback of an eerily similar conversation years ago with his sister-in-law and, accordingly, his brain went into overdrive. Peggy hadn't been the same since coming back from the field and he knew it. Oh sure, it was subtle, but it was there, exactly as Loraine had just laid it out. What if the girl was right? Leaning back in his chair, he gave his secretary his flattest stare, one she returned stoically. 

"Let me see if I have this straight. You think Agent Carter is pregnant."

There were a lot of things Phillips had been forced to deal with for this damn war, but he had a feeling this was going to end up in the top ten strangest. Janet shrugged with seeming nonchalance, but he could tell she was completely serious. He would be the first to admit that he kept Loraine around because she was smart and observant and got shit done with little input from his constantly taxed resources, so he had no choice but to take her words seriously. But really, could Carter or that honorable, reckless punk from Brooklyn have done something so stupid? No damn way. Not on purpose anyway.

And no one really knew what that serum had done to Rogers.

Aggravated with the couple-- because those two lovebirds weren't fooling him for a damn minute-- Chester was suddenly afraid for them as well. Gettin' the government lab monkeys off Rogers had been hard enough. What would they do-- god, what would the enemy do-- with knowledge that he might have fathered a child? The thought made him a little ill.

After a long, pregnant pause-- the irony of the thought almost made him huff humorlessly-- Loraine spoke up hesitatingly. "Sir? Are you ok?"

Startled back to the present, he pinned his assistant with an unusually grave look. "You don't breathe a word of this, you hear? I might not be fond of that beefed-up lab rat, but Carter's like a daughter to me and I've got kids and grandkids both. God…"

He was really shaken and that alarmed Janet, for she'd never seen him shaken before. Not like this.

"You have my word."

Again forced to take her at her word, Phillips rubbed both hands over his face and groaned briefly. For a moment, he wallowed in self-pity, in the exhaustion and heartache and irritation that had seeped into his very bones. But the war waited for no man, no woman or no problem, and time kept marching forward.

"Gimmie ten, Loraine, then send her in."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

"Not your fault. Probably not even their fault, but if you're right, then it's done and we do everything we can to keep them safe."

"Absolutely."


	4. Chapter 4

There was nothing unusual about Loraine's passing remark that Phillips wanted to see her, but there was something odd in the blonde's expression. Filing that away, Peggy wrapped up what she was doing and headed over to the colonel's claustrophobic office.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Shut the door. Sit."

Perversely, Peggy wanted to wisecrack about what had she done wrong to have the door be closed? Thankfully, she fought the urge down and the humiliating giggling that nearly accompanied it. Moments crawled by while he scrawled furiously over the page on his desk before he set aside his pen and gave her his full attention.

"So, you and Rogers, huh?"

Whatever she had expected Phillips to say, that had not even passed through Peggy's mind. There was no stopping the tiny ripple of flinch and she instantly went on the defensive. "Sir, I assure you…"

"It's not exactly a shock Carter. Can't say that's a bad thing. Could even solve a few problems for me, namely any of the other boneheads in this rathole getting any ideas about you. And, as entertaining as it might be to watch you knock them on their asses, their own stupidity could be just as dangerous as Hydra."

Part of Peggy wanted to speak, to object, to rant at the man, anything but sit there like some mute statue.

"And it's pretty clear Rogers adores you, since he can barely keep his eyes off of you."

The gentleness of his tone rattled Peggy and she once again tried to speak, a sudden lump in her throat making her eyes prickle.

"So, even if nothing is confirmed, the rumors might be enough to knock some sense into the masses, but not assume, shall we? All our boys need to survive getting out to the front and I've pulled you out of the brig more than enough, even if that 'superior' officer deserved being knocked on his ass. Sometimes even a fella who actually likes you needs to be knocked on his ass."

It was a rare quirk of smile, Chester Phillips clearly remembering the firecracker sitting before him losing her cool and punching him hard enough to nearly knock him out. The three days in the brig had only served to incense her further, but it had also won her his respect. There were many good reasons he kept her close; brains, aplomb and knowing when to utilize a well-placed punch.

"So, that arm's healed up, yeah?"

Again, he'd caught her off guard, Peggy blinking as though waking up, her rattled mind a few steps behind the conversation, such as it was. "Ummm… yes?"

"Still feelin' tired? Sick at weird times? Your eyes and sense of smell haywire? Emotionally edgy?"

Peggy waved the words off and finally found her voice. "I'm functioning just fine, sir. All of that will pass once I finish healing."

"Carter." The absolute tenderness in his voice rattled her to her core. "I'm a father of three. You're done healing."


	5. Chapter 5

Some part of Phillips must have half expected some sort of extreme reaction-- despite it being Peggy-- and had the small trashcan beside his desk dumped and roughly slammed down before all the blood had drained from her face. Not a moment too soon either, as a horrible strangled sound escaped the unflappable woman and Phillips roughly pressed a hand between her shoulder blades as she upchucked violently.

In the storm of brutal bodily reaction, Peggy had a moment for the man's words to really sink in, somewhere deep in her brain. No, this couldn't be happening…

But a thousand little clues lost to recovering from the bullet wounds and subconsciously turning a blind eye suddenly seemed as obvious as the stench of bile in her nostrils, burning her throat, making her eyes water to blindness.

Only a pathetic little moan got Phillips to let up the hard hand at the base of Peggy's neck and he grabbed his own mug of cold coffee dregs. "Rinse."

The vile taste nearly made Peggy sick again, but she gritted her teeth and spat the disgusting mouthful into the ruined trashcan. Before she could say a word, she was handed a scrap of clean rag and a glass of water.

"You good for a second?"

Nodding weakly, Peggy wiped her face off and drank the water as the colonel shoveled the scattered trash back into the can and went to the door.

"Hey Loraine, sorry to push this off on you, but dump all your trash on top and get rid of the whole can. Scare up one of those big coffee tins or something to replace it. Thanks."

Some dispassionate part of Peggy's mind not wracked with gibbering hysteria made a note to thank the younger woman for her discretion. Mostly, she wanted to rant and rave and pound something and possibly scream like a madwoman. 

Had her mother once felt like this? Her grandmothers? Generations and generations before them? Peggy noticed her hands were shaking violently and she returned the half-emptied glass of water back on Phillips' desk before she made any more of a mess. Unexpectedly, Peggy suddenly desperately wished her mother were there, aching to see her, no matter the many years separating them. She was caught up in the visceral memory of that final letter from London dated January 14th of 1932. Mother had said everything was fine, that she and Papa were holding on, for Peggy to be strong, to be brave and loyal and true. A final 'we love you' and a silence that echoed across the years. Outside of the day she arrived in Yorkshire and the day she left once more, it was the only time her grandparents hugged her once they all understood that there was clearly going to be no more letters. Her thirteenth birthday had been a quiet one.

For the first time in more years than Peggy could count, she wished desperately for her mother's presence, felt a sob choke her, breath fast and dizzying. Again, that hard hand on her neck, a weight to ground her in this brief, vulnerable moment.

"Breathe."

It was exactly what she needed to hear, something concrete and easy to hold on to. Harsh and labored, she did as ordered, the familiar stinking air of the tunnels filling her lungs over and over and over. Only when she stopped shaking and nearly hyperventilating did Phillips pat her gently and return to sit at his desk.

"Sir… I need…"

"Y'know, I've been thinking," he interrupted brusquely in a casual tone. "Things seem pretty firmly in allied hands out in central France. I think it's about damn time the SSR packs up and gets the hell out of these stinking rabbit warrens, don't you? Good. I'll leave you in here for a bit to start the gears up for that. Take your time and holler for Janet if you need a hand. I'll be off yelling at the quartermasters."

Again on his feet, Phillips briefly brushed Peggy's shoulder on his way out, pausing at the door at her soft voice. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Any time, kid."


	6. Chapter 6

Still in a daze, Peggy braced herself on the edge of the desk and carefully stood. Her legs were rubbery and she ached all over, particularly from the throat up. Standing there on her shaky legs, she found herself giving into the primitive urge to press a trembling hand to her abdomen. 

"And here I thought the skirts getting tight was merely a lack of exercise," she spoke softly to herself. But no, there was a distinct lack of softness to the small amount of weight she'd mysteriously gained and had been studiously ignoring. While there was no way to guarantee that Phillips' guesses were correct, all the signs were there. And there was absolutely no way she was going to do something so public as going to the hospital for that insane rabbit test.

So much for her months of skipped monthly bleeds being due to the injury sustained to her shoulder.

That thought was the first visceral blast of alarm felt for her unborn child. The gunshots, the medications, the short rations. Had all of that affected them both?

The surge of deep, savage, animalistic protectiveness startled Peggy. Well if that didn't clinch it, what did?

Shaken all over again, she stumbled to Phillips' creaky chair and collapsed into it.

Some time must have passed, because when a sudden knock roused her, it was with a start, her head jerking up from her crossed arms on the desk. Had she dozed off? A moment later, Janet shouldered her way in, expression as impassive as always, and a heavily-laden tray perched on her hip. 

"I have supply lists and a pile of manifests for you, Agent," she said quietly and set the tray on the desk, her expression suddenly morphing into lip-chewing consternation as she pulled away a tea towel tossed over one side of the tray. "Umm, I apologize, but Betsy jumped me in the commissary. I swear I didn't say anything, but she got that shrewd look and threatened me into staying put before she gave me this. But you gals are friends, right?"

It was a odd selection of easy to eat nibblies, a cup only shallowly filled with cooled coffee beside a can of evaporated milk and one of the ubiquitous tiny can openers. The sweet-- and knowing-- gesture of the foodstuffs and Loraine's utterly uncharacteristic fluster conspired to rattle Peggy again, tears welling up. Choking the emotional reaction down, Peggy managed a quiet thank you and earned herself the first quirk of tiny smile from the younger woman.

"No problem. You're an easy one, Carter. Just holler if you need me, I'm right outside."

They were both grateful for the hasty retreat to save from potential awkwardness.

Trying not to get shaken all over again at the reality of her changed reality, Peggy cleared her throat around the swallowed tears and the bile burn still lingering. Her stomach gurgled in irritation, half hungry and half nauseous. 

"Lovely." 

Several waxed sleeves of plain, boring soda crackers were a relief and she crunched away while pouring over the reports and making lists of notes. The gelatinous fruit bars that were always a part of field rations also stayed down, but Peggy decided to wait on the coffee and milk for a bit. She also found a small tin of aspirin and took a chance at two of them to perhaps take the edge off the pain beating behind her eyes.

The work and food conspired to give her some psychological breathing space, but Peggy Carter was never the sort to take the easy way and eventually leaned back to the harmony of squealing, dry springs. With deliberate intent this time, she stroked her hands over the swell of her belly, marveling at the shift in her reality. 

"Well, come then, let's go see Betsy, shall we?"


	7. Chapter 7

In two days, the SSR was packed up nearly down to every stick of furniture and a massive convoy of trucks, lorries and armored vehicles clogged the city streets as they loaded up and headed out of London. 

"We good?"

Flashing a smile of welcome to a grinning Betsy, Peggy patted the steering wheel and gave the keys a twist to bring the noisy engine to life. She's been surprised and delighted to find out that the Commandos had brought Bessie back with them when they visited at the end of April. The lorry had been carefully patched up, welds clear beneath the hastily-sprayed military green patchy against the older paint. Still, the silly cow markings were mostly intact and no one had bothered the roughly-made turrets on the roof. 

"Yep. The ass end of this thing is packed like a steamer trunk to the roof, including enough fuel to get us and six other trucks from here to Berlin. Tally ho!"

As expected, the American had quickly become a caretaker of sorts, more closely befriending Peggy and acting as a conduit to preserve the anonymity of pregnancy and ensure that there was always something to eat. Turns out she couldn't have children of her own, but had grown up in a rural area and had been around the business of babies and the care of home her entire life. Her calm, down to earth presence was reassuring to Peggy, who, while calm on the outside, was still hopelessly rattled.

There were a pair of huge transports sitting squat and rusty in the English Channel awaiting the convoy and others making the crossing, a pair of destroyers and a single fast corvette prowling the waters beyond. It was a sobering reminder of the constant threat of U-boats hidden beneath the surface, the danger of something as simple as a water crossing. 

When the destroyer's huge guns began roaring, everyone froze. Like cornered animals, they all remained still, breathing shallow, waiting to see if there would be the boom of torpedo against the transport's hull, the fire and death and shrieking, torn metal. 

The shift in familiar fears shook Peggy to her bones and soul.

She had always been concerned for others, such was her upbringing, her sense of self, but never like this; never the pulse of new life she carried, the legacy she had never wanted but now bore. 

"Breathe," Betsy prodded gently, just as Phillips had days before, and just as before, that simple, raw act of breath calmed Peggy. Resting her head on the steering wheel, she willing the shaking to subside as the distant guns fell silent and the crew cheered in the hold.

"I find that fear is having a very unexpected effect on me," Peggy whispered.

"Well sure, honey. You're not just afraid for yourself anymore. If you weren't shaking in your boots, I'd be worried."

Turning her head to peer at the other woman, Peggy absorbed that. "You don't see this as weakness?"

A burst of laughter was not what she expected. "Hell no. In fact, once the shock wears off, you know as well as I do that you're going to be ten times more alert and meaner than a damn snake now. Look out, Hydra!"

Impossibly, the levity made Peggy smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best of reunions.

The Howling Commandos were thrilled to receive the radio transmission about the arrival of the SSR in the field. A home base would be welcome after two months roughing it on their own; laundry and showers and good medical care and a few good meals would bring their spirits up. And Steve knew Peggy would be with them and it made him giddy. So they made their way to the rendezvous point where the first vehicles had already begun taking over a few of the mostly intact buildings the locals had deserted and beginning the process of building their own military village.

Dismounting from their battered jeeps and truck, the Commandos watched the controlled chaos, mentally shifting from the quiet of their intimate little group to this madhouse.

When the thing flew out of nowhere, making Bucky cuss and jump as though shot at and Steve to whip around to catch the wrench as it fell, he was utterly baffled at its presence and the sting in his shoulder. His bafflement didn't abate when he noticed Peggy exiting the rising storm of dust and diesel fumes brought in with the convoy, her face wreathed in a wide grin.

"I'm late," she called out, tossing the spanner in her hand like a throwing knife. Steve found himself hung up on the jeep's door and struggled with a curse, not wanting to rip his distinctive uniform.

"There'll be other fights!" The second wrench winged off his other shoulder, really startling him. "What the hell, Peggy?"

"I'm late," she yelled again, clearly completely amused with something, hands resting on her hips, the right arm showing no signs of the gunshot wounds that had sent her back to London. She looked amazing, vibrant and healthy in the summer sunshine, clad in uniform pants and boots, and astonishingly, an SSR t-shirt. That was unusual. 

"Got that," he hollered and now she flat out laughed, the sound rising when Jacques called out something in French. Finally freeing himself, Steve pulled the cowl off and tossed it into the jeep before rushing over. To his surprise, she raised a hand to plant it onto his chest to halt him in his tracks. For a long moment, he forgot where he was, what he had seen, his bone-deep weariness, the stink of battle stuck to him, everything but the way her dark eyes turned to molten chocolate in the sunshine and her smile was incandescent, her beauty stealing the breath right out of him. He'd only ever seen her in sunshine while in bootcamp and then, he'd never looked down into her sunlit eyes, the warm light making her rich coloring all the richer. 

"I'm late," she said quietly a third time, shaking him out of his lovesick staring. 

Behind him, Jacques muttered, "sacre bleu," before raising his voice to berate the rest of the squad, the rapid-fire French eluding Steve completely and he'd gotten a pretty good grasp on the language, damnit.

He was so very confused.

Sliding that hand up to grab the front of his collar and slowly pull him down-- Steve didn't fight her in the slightest, placing his hands on her hips and leaning in-- she whispered, lips brushing his, "I'm late."

Something occurred to him suddenly, an icy bolt of shock in the summer sun, something those innocuous words could mean. Blue eyes rounded and brown crinkled with sheer delight.

"Wait, what?" He babbled helplessly, confused to his bones and she laughed again, lips brushing his like butterfly kisses. "But you were shot?"

"Apparently, I am a great much more than shot," Peggy said lightheartedly, her tone almost giggling and Steve crouched to wrap thick arms around her, completely on instinct now. Sure enough, she happily twined both strong legs around his upper waist and draped both arms over his shoulders and for the first time in two months, something eternally uneasy in him settled. 

"Wait, are you…?"

"Not showing exactly, but everything points to it, yes."

Doesn't every kid wonder what it would be like to be a parent? Even a scrawny little punk who couldn't impress a girl if his life depended on it? Then came along this sassy beauty with her toughness and smarts and loving kisses and… and this.

"You're pregnant?"

"Congratulations, Steven Grant Rogers, you're going to be a father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note at time of writing: And with this chapter, I have FINALLY reached the original Tumblr prompt that spawned off this monster. It is the morning of 4-25-15 and the current word count is 32,555. Wow.
> 
> http://ayrki.tumblr.com/post/114802942539/counterpunches-mrs-jamie-wellerstein


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inevitable question.

Steve made some loud, inarticulate sound, an animal cry of reaction, alarmed and exhilarated. Peggy only laughed in response as he hugged her suffocatingly close, the sound high and sweet.

Dugan felt bad about interrupting such an important reunion, but it had to be done before they got noticed.

"Come on guys, let's go lay some cover down for those idiots."

En mass, the Howling Commandos descended on the reunited lovers, interrupting sweet kisses with rough, gentle hands and raised voices. Peggy laughed and reached out from her high perch to ruffle filthy hair or return high-fives, enjoying their puppyish affection while Steve just looked shell-shocked and maybe a bit annoyed at the interruption. 

"In public, chief," Dugan reminded the younger man, who blinked back to himself a bit. "Hasn't been the same without you, Peg."

"Good to be home, Timothy."

Steve jumped when Gabe elbowed him hard in the ribs, his smile white in his handsome, dark face. "Damn fool, didn't those stupid movies teach you anything?" 

Once the dirty laughter died down-- the process slowed by Peggy's flicking Gabe's ear-- she answered in lieu of Steve, who was still gawking like a very embarrassed fish.

"We were careful, Gabe. I suppose we have science to blame for this. Alas."

Peggy could feel the heat on Steve's fair face even through her shirt as he hid in her cleavage. Hands dug into his fair hair, Peggy found herself tracing the dots and dashes of 'I love you' in Morse code once more onto his skin, the long slashes separating the letters rasping the fine strands over her fingertips. She understood the shudder of hiccupping sob he stifled into her chest, everything starting to settle into his mind and heart. And her heart felt full to bursting when his right hand, curled around her waist, echoed the letters back.

Somehow, the boys quickly whipped up one the canvas cover on one of the jeeps and stuffed the lovers in for some scant privacy. Dugan, the unspoken second in command of the band, imperiously told them to keep it clean and slammed the door, leaving Peggy happily curled up on Steve's lap. Outside, the big man with the outrageous brush mustache volunteered Junior and Jacques for guard duty, as much to watch over the jeep as the battered fields around them. 

In the muffled noise of the busyness of the growing camp, Peggy lay curled against her lover and spoke quietly, lengthily about the last few days, the endless loneliness leading up to them, the symptoms long ignored. Steve listened avidly, cradling her smaller body, stroking over her curves, periodically interrupting the smooth cadence of her accented voice with melting kisses. She stroked the Star emblazoned over his sternum, he alternated between petting her and playing with those elegant fingers, rubbing the palms and digits in his bigger hands, remembering the feel of them on his skin, writing the words that kept him ahead of the game, wielding a weapon with savage ease.

He said it without thinking, without letting the smarter parts of his brain talk him out of it, just grabbed a hold of his courage and took a flying leap of faith. Nuzzling her mouth silent, he breathed the words from his mouth to hers.

"Marry me."

Startled, Peggy jerked her head back to stare at him.

"I would have asked eventually, when all this bullshit around us was done, when we could breathe again, because god knows, Peggy Carter, I can barely breathe without you."

The adoring earnestness in those blue eyes scalded Peggy like hot water and she pulled herself against him to gain a moment to breathe, to think. But really, when had thinking ever helped her out in the slightest with this force of nature she had fallen in with? Never. Could she, for once in her life, just consciously take a deep breath and just take a leap of faith? He certainly inspired that.

"You idiot," she murmured into Steve's filthy hair close to his ear.

"Is that a yes?" He asked plaintively and she burst into watery chuckles.

"Yes, yes you idiot, to all of it. I would love nothing more."


	10. Chapter 10

Eventually, they had to discretely crawl out the jeep and rejoin camp before someone found them and blew apart the thin veneer of the truth around them. With promises to find one another in the darkness for a more carnal reunion, the lovers slipped away to quietly rejoin the camp as though nothing were amiss. That was, unless anyone wondered after the idiotic grin and high color on Rogers, the giddy smugness vibrating just under Carter's normally serene surface. Thankfully, few gave it any thought, to busy with their own lives and duties. Betsy lit up when she saw Peggy's face, dragging the younger woman off to a corner of the stores shack to squeal at her. Peggy was actually pleased with the fussing and having someone to stand with her besides the Commandos.

The next morning, Peggy shrieked at the fellas when they busted in to drag a protesting Steve-- bare-assed naked with only a hastily-grabbed shirt saving any of his dignity-- through camp, blushing furiously from navel to ears. After a humiliating march past the entire SSR, Bucky and Dugan took great delight in shoving him off the dilapidated little dock over the grungy lake nearby. After snatching away the shirt of course. To a chorus of 'Happy birthday, Captain America,' they laughed while Steve made sure to stay crouched in the scummy water and glared affectionately at them all. 

Peggy showed up with the arriving crowd, annoyed and amused and wishing she'd seen the show. The shenanigans kicked off a day-long celebration of the Fourth of July interspersed with the usual business of wartime camp in the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the shortness of this chapter. In my defense? Is there really any better birthday shenanigans that would beat bare-assed Steve getting shoved in the lake by the other Commandos? I thought not.


	11. Chapter 11

Because of the chaos of the holiday and Steve's birthday, it was the morning of the fifth before Steve managed to get away to run the errand he needed to run. It wasn't just morning, but ridiculously early morning, damp clinging wetly before the summer sun would burn it off. While he really didn't want to be away from Peggy-- hot dog did she leave him with some memories the last couple of nights-- and kinda wished he carried more than just memories of the loving, could keep the furrows of her nails in his skin, the bruises of her bites...

Then again, maybe he was better off without the distractions.

It was a gamble to find Colonel Phillips in the command tent, but an accurate one.

"Sir? May I have a moment of your time?"

Chester Phillips gave Steve the longest, flattest, flintiest glare, making the younger man want to squirm. He'd never had cause to speak to a girl's father, but he'd bet a year's pay it felt an awful lot like this. "What do you want, Rogers? Thanks to you barkin' up my second in command's tree, I'm lookin' at being woefully shorthanded real damn soon."

"I'm going to marry her, sir."

Strangely, that seemed to make Phillips angry, his jaw working as though he were chewing shoe leather. "And she agreed to that?"

The disbelief stung the way a lifetime of being discounted did, when he had been small and weak and never knew when to back down. And like all those times he never knew when to back down, Steve felt his temper flare up. "I would have asked her eventually! I love her more than anything I've ever felt in my life! It burns me up inside and I can hardly believe she'd want someone like me, and I just blurted it out, but I meant it more than anything, I still do..."

A raised hand stopped the tirade and Phillips looked thoughtful now, rather than angry. "So why the hell are you in here bothering me? Seems you damn kids have this all planned out on your own."

Baffled, Steve spoke with the blunt honesty that had won him more favors than heartache. "Because you're the closest thing she has to family, to a father."

It was a rarity that Chester Phillips was at a loss for words, but this was one of those times. He really did love the silk and steel Englishwoman like a daughter, as did this damn kid with his big, earnest blue eyes. Roughly clearing his throat, Chester ignored the sting of tears and walked around the desk to stand face to face with Steve.

"Okay, we're both in agreement that girl is the bee's knees. What do you want me to do? Officiate? Give her away?"

Now Steve looked nervous, actually reaching up to tug at his collar while his cheeks turned pink. "Frankly, sir, I'll leave that to you and Peggy. I guess I was... umm... sorta hoping for your blessing?"

"You are some kinda awkward duck, Rogers," Phillips marveled wryly and chuckled when Steve flushed and nodded resignedly.

"Yeah, she seems to bring that out in me."

The laugh felt good. Unexpected and damn rusty, but good.

"There's something else on your mind."

"I was hoping maybe you could help me scare up a ring?"

Chester found himself twisting the plain gold band on his left ring finger, the battered match to the one he'd buried with his wife before things had gone to shit... again. He hadn't taken it off more than a couple of times in decades, but somehow, he thought his beloved would understand. When he spoke again, his voice was impossibly gentle.

"Yeah, son, I think I can help you out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, Phillips rocks!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back story and feels. Excellent!

"So he asked ya, huh?"

Startled, Peggy almost jumped out of her chair, head swiveling sharply towards the rear of the lorry. The windows of the Bedford were propped open as well as the big double doors at the back, letting in what little breeze there was on a sweltering day. Squinting against the glare, Barnes stood there with a neutral expression and Peggy envied him the casual t-shirt he wore.

"How did you figure it out?"

There was no playing dumb with him and Peggy didn't bother. Carefully climbing the stacked crates and barrels that acted as stairs, Bucky stood at the edge of the big truck box, taking idle note of the single disheveled cot at the far end, the subtle hint of his best friend's instantly moving back in with this singular woman. He smirked wryly at her in response to the flatly stated question.

"Please, like I can't read that punk like an open newspaper."

Peggy quirked a quick grin that didn't make it to her eyes, before her expression turned distant and maybe even a bit pained. "Yes, I suppose I'll never know him so well."

Bucky never could stand to see a dame sad. "Oh, I think you know him better than anybody now. Maybe even me. You get what he is now better 'n I do and still get who he was too. I like that about you. You guys got rings?"

The change of subject left Peggy blinking. "Pardon?"

Rubbing his neck uncomfortably, Bucky stepped closer. He didn't know her well, outside of work anyway, but he knew Steve was gone on her, this fireball with a unruffled facade. And he liked that she was clearly gone for Steve, his best friend, that scrappy, irrepressible brat from Brooklyn, not the meathead in the spangly suit.

"It's just, I'd believe him thinkin' ahead and somehow scarin' up a ring somewhere, but I'm guessin' all this..." Bucky's vague gesture at Peggy made her smirk, "is kinda a shock."

"Quite. No, I haven't a ring for him. I most definitely did not have the time nor facilities to think that far ahead back in London."

It was one of the few times Bucky had seen her at a loss, the dark eyes ducking away and an agitated purse to her crimson lips. Flopping down onto the other battered metal chair in the Bedford, Bucky stretched his legs out and eyed his boots while he spoke up conversationally, his accent gone thick with emotion.

"So... me and Steve usedta wander the touristy spots, y'know? Lookin' for change people dropped, that sorta thing. Kept us both outta trouble. Well, it usually sorta kept us outta trouble, anyway."

Best friend and best girl shared a commiserating grin.

"So one afternoon-- it was May twenty-sixth of thirty-two, I'll never forget it-- was one of those perfect days. Ever had one of those perfect days? Everyone should have at least one of those. The weather was amazin', the Depression was lookin' better, Steve found a whole fiver, we rode the rides at Coney Island and ate Nathan's dogs til we were almost sick and I found this."

Pulling off his dog tags, Bucky quickly undid the chain and slid off the ring he'd carried for more than a decade, holding it so that Peggy could see the slightly misshapen circle of it.

"I was so excited, thinkin' it was pricey, and Steve laughed so hard, because he knew it was junk and he turned out to be right, but it's always reminded me of that perfect day."

Peggy wanted to object when Bucky reached out to scoop up her hand and drop the beat up piece of tin onto her palm where her fingers curled around it protectively.

"I'll do everything I can to keep him safe for ya, ok? Y'know, when you can't do it your damn self."

Choked up, Peggy nonetheless huffed in adoring amusement. "Yes, thank you for that. I'll hold you too it... Bucky."

It was the first time she had ever used his favored name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm not a fan of Bucky (and in particular, his actor) I've done my best to make peace with the character. 1940s Bucky turns out to be a decent character once you get past the strutting and flash. Not unlike the Stark men!


	13. Chapter 13

Somehow the couple went about their normal business of meetings, repairs, training. Endless paperwork and the scut work of getting the finishing touches on the semi-permanent camp. Steve didn't mind, the hard work made his big body feel useful and wore away at the more anxious edges of his constant high energy levels.

"Captain Rogers!"

Startled by the dimly familiar voice, Steve paused in his shoveling to set the grade for a road and gave his attention to the woman approaching him. "Ma'am?"

It took real effort, but Betsy kept her expression neutral even as her dancing eyes gave away her glee. "Agent Carter sent me to retrieve you, sir. If you have a moment?"

"Of course. Just let me clean up my workspace a bit. I'll be just a moment."

Smoothing out his workspace, Steve returned his shovel to the gang leader and walked over the smiling older woman. "I recognize you from the mess, you're Peggy's friend. Steve Rogers, pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"Charmer," Betsy chuckled. "Betsy Cooper. Now come help me get your girl fed."

Steve beamed happily. "Yes ma'am!"

"Lunch seems as good an excuse as any for a visit, eh, son? I quizzed her and Martha's got today's preferences in hand, so all we need you to do is deliver it and see if you can get some into her. Agreed?"

"Agreed. Wait.... Get some into her?"

"She's got an iron stomach to be sure, but god knows what the Bean will let her keep down."

It was an abrupt reminder to Steve exactly how his life had changed so quickly. When Betsy realized the heavy footsteps had stopped, she turned and eyeballed him. There was only the privacy of a crowd ignoring a small conversation of two amidst the chaos, but it would be enough. Stepping close, she put a hand on his arm.

"It's a shock, I know. Believe me, I remember. Just breathe as best you can and be supportive. Even in the middle of all this," she gestured around to encompass everything around them, "good can still happen. You've got proof of that now. So, come on already."

Steve always did like a woman who knew what she wanted, all the way back to his beautiful, tough, hardworking mother. So he followed like a good boy. Turns out it wasn't just the two cooks he was confronted with, but Private Loraine, fussing over a half-dozen squarish tins. Her presence reminded him of bullets ringing off his shield and he kept his distance, earning a smirk from the blonde.

"Relax, Captain, we both learned our lesson."

With quick efficient motions, the trio of women finished packing a surprising amount of food into mess kits and stacked them to be wrapped up neatly in a bed sheet. "That's a lot of food."

His dubious tone earned him laughter, but only Loraine answered. "It's not all hers, Cap, we're not idiots. Go have a picnic with your girl. She'll know which is hers."

"Will she?"

"Hey, who do you think has been taking care of her for the last four months?"

Steve hadn't expected that and gave them all a grateful look. "Thanks for that."

"She's not hard to care for. When she's not shooting."

"You'll get no argument from me."


	14. Chapter 14

Tap, tap.

The sound made Peggy look up from her papers, head swiveling towards the open door to see Steve step into view with that adoring, dopey grin. "Special delivery, courtesy of your care squad, Agent."

Echoing his grin, she turned in her seat and regarded him. "Oh? Do tell, Captain."

Tossing his load onto the edge of the truck box, Steve forwent the makeshift stairs and hoisted himself up with the effortless physicality so inherent to him now. Someone had draped a bunch of canvas over the open doors to create a shading canopy, lending the space some scant privacy, so he could stalk over to loom over his grinning lover... fiancé. Tenderly cupping the back of her neck, he leaned in to slowly and thoroughly kiss the smirk off of her beautiful face. She was getting a little handsy before he leaned away again.

"Hungry?"

The automatic sassy response was interrupted by both of their stomachs gurgling. Amidst rueful laughter, Steve grabbed the bundle and together, they spread out the bed sheet and settled in for a picnic in the sweltering dimness of the Bedford's box.

"Ah, I see Janet prepared lunch," Peggy commented as she prodded through the tins until she stumbled over the careful peeled and de-pitted orange slices. She'd been missing the treat desperately and fell on them like a starving wolf. Her visceral delight gave Steve a thrill and made him feel indulgent towards her. Once Steve had taken the edge off his serum-fueled hunger, he leaned over to nuzzle the back of Peggy's neck, enjoying her hair drawn up into a simple bun in deference to the weather. Humming quietly, she pretended to ignore him while Steve mouthed her, enjoying the small movements of her chewing slowly, licking at the saltiness of her skin. It really wasn't a surprise that her left hand began stroking along his leg again, wandering higher until Steve made a throaty sound that made Peggy twist around and accost him with savage kisses.

Steve was more than willing to let her roll him, relishing her weight across his torso, smoothing his big hands over her back and ass. He was startled when she suddenly made an annoyed, uncomfortable sound and sat up abruptly. "Sorry, darling, but I have to..."

Scrambling to her feet, Peggy was off like a shot down the steps and fleeing, leaving behind a completely baffled Steve.

"Sick or needs to pee," Gabe said succinctly as he stepped into Steve's line of sight. "Who knows?"

"What?"

Worried now, Steve was on his feet and in the sunlight beside his fellow Commando: who grabbed his arm and gave him a hearty shake.

"Cap, focus, this is important. Who knows? We gotta keep this in the family, so to speak."

Sick. The baby was making Peggy sick. Frankly, thinking about it was making Steve queasy. She was suffering and he had no idea what to do. Scrubbing hands over his face, Steve took a few deep breaths. All the repercussions were still sinking in. "Umm... Colonel Phillips, his secretary, Private Loraine, and the two cooks, Betsy and Martha. No one else that I know of, though I guess someone in the med corps will have to get brought in. God..."

All those weeks spent as a lab rat, scrutinized like an animal... or a bomb. So many people and groups salivating to reproduce what he had become and now that had put Peggy and the baby in danger.

The sudden terror rattled him like nothing ever had before, the harsh, ugly reality of it like the thunder of guns in his ears.


	15. Chapter 15

Unnerved and emotionally rattled, Peggy managed to keep her lunch where it should be, but couldn't seem to find the focus to leave the unbearably stuffy toilet stall she was hiding in. Really, she was so weary of these emotional bursts that would ambush at the most random times, leaving her defensive and exhausted. Stroking the gently rounded plain of her belly was soothing in a primitive way and gave her the courage to fight down the animal instincts and get herself arranged enough to retreat back to the Bedford with only slightly undue haste. First rule of spy work: never move faster than the traffic around you. It draws attention. 

When something within her haven moved, Peggy almost shrieked and pulled her gun, Steve's eyes gone wide at her unconscious defensiveness. "Hey, Dollface, c'mere."

It was the ridiculous, obnoxiously American endearment that brought back some of Peggy's sanity and she scrambled into the dimness to practically throw herself over his bulk to huddle as though he was her shield. Taking the chance to stroke her dark hair, Steve was gratified that she didn't growl and snap, but silently fretted at the way she nearly cowered against him. Red nails twisted his shirt and she pressed her face into his chest hard enough to almost hurt, but some instinct told Steve to stay quiet, to guard silently, to keep words behind his teeth until she found her own. So he held her loosely and remained a shield between his lover and child and the blazing sunlight and its dangers

In time, Peggy's fast, panicked breathing slowed, her tension bleeding away until she burrowed closer with softer need, not irrational terror, and at last Steve felt that he could at last hold her for real.

"The drawback of maintaining such meticulous emotional control, is losing it."

The words would have sounded dispassionate had Steve not been able to hear the quaver of stress in them, echoed in Peggy's distressed body. How he wanted to apologize, to take away all that had happened to her, even this unexpected pregnancy... but no, neither of them wanted that. Her delight in telling him had been real, he'd stake his soul on it.

"Glad to be of assistance, ma'am."

The whisper made Peggy lean her head back to meet the earnest, pale gaze of her fiancé. "Irrationality does seem to rear its ugly head at the inopportune moments. Dratted baby hormones."

Steve loosened up his cling to stroke over her hair, trace his thumb over her cheekbone, the apple of her cheek, the lush curve of her lips. Curling that big, deadly hand around her jaw, he held her restless, dark gaze until she slowly stilled and paid close attention to his serious expression.

"This doesn't define you. I don't define you, the uniform doesn't define you, the emotional outbursts, such as they are, the scars, nothing does but you." Making a face, Steve sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes at himself. "Toldja I didn't know how to talk to beautiful dames."

Scooting to unwind and press herself fully to his larger bulk, Peggy smoothed the silky, tawny hair. "You do fine, darling. Just keep talking."

"I don't want you to feel like anything has to define you but what you want to define you, Peggy. I never want that. You're so damn amazing and have bested so damn much, it kinda blows my mind sometimes. Speakin' of that, I want you to promise me something sorta weird and completely unorthodox."

"Anything, darling."

"Don't change your name."

Whatever Peggy had been expecting him to say, that hadn't really passed through her mind. At all, come to think of it. 

"My name?"

"I want to marry you more than anything, but I don't want you to change, sure as hell not for me, and my name carries all sorts of dangers now anyway."

And there was the crux of one of their biggest problems, wasn't it? Even as that animal panic began raising its ugly head again, Steve rose up on his elbow to loom over Peggy, cradling her head from the hard wooden floor.

"In fact, once I'm not a fighting man anymore, I'd be rather flattered to take yours. Screw convention."

What else could she do but pull him to her?


	16. Chapter 16

On the morning of July seventh, in the wee dark hours of oh-dark-thirty, the second sneak attack of friends abducting friends happened, though Betsy and Janet shoved Peggy into loose trousers and Steve's t-shirt at least. While Betsy rifled though Peggy's trunk with ruthless efficiency, Janet got her grumbling, blurry-eyed charge dressed and stole a couple appreciative glances at a bemused Steve Rogers watching the shenanigans... in nothing but a bed sheet draped over his hips. 

"You'll get her back in a few hours, Captain. See you there."

His startled face was priceless as the women evacuated and the guys--waiting impatiently in the dark beyond the lorry-- pounced on him. 

Both of them were absconded off to get in a quick shower and get togged to the bricks in their best threads before getting hustled into separate vehicles, Phillips and the women kind enough to provide something with enough seats for Peggy to stretch out and grab a small nap. Steve ignored his pals in the back of the tooth-rattling old transport truck as he buttoned up and fought with his tie. He didn't realize how jittery he was until he finally swore after screwing up his tie for the third time. Sighing in exasperation, Bucky smacked his fumbling hands aside and started in on the task himself.

"Nervous?"

For a long moment, Steve didn't answer, his eyes staring off into the distance, mouth twisted up, hair falling in his eyes and Bucky was powerfully reminded of the little guy who'd been a brother to him for so long they couldn't remember life before that. Then that honest gaze was focused again and Steve made a strangled sound. "Yes! And it's so stupid..."

"No it ain't and stop actin' like this ain't the biggest deal to ever happen to you, stupid." That hang-dog face made Bucky laugh and punch Steve in the shoulder. "'Cause Pegs'd do it herself if she were here."

That dopey adoring expression never got old. "Yeah, she would. Glad you're here, Buck."

"Me too, punk, me too."

It was a longer drive than anyone expected, even the jittery groom-to-be half asleep by the time they finally pulled to a halt and poured out when Dugan barked at them from the driver's seat. It was a peaceful, forested glade with the stacked-stone ruins of an old building, one far older than the modern wars that had torn this countryside and its kin apart. There was a kindly-looking middle-aged fellow there who met them with greetings in fluid French, of which Steve perfectly followed for about four words before a flash of red caught his eye. For an endless moment he forgot French, he forgot the beautiful morning around them, he forgot his own name, hell, he nearly forgot how to breathe. 

Still sleepily rubbing her eyes, Peggy stood with her friends, sheathed in the red dress Steve remembered clearly and still mourned never getting a chance to peel her out of. She held a sloppy bundle of iris and lavender and something white and delicate-looking, more of it tucked into her dark hair, drawn back simply from her face. Someone might have tried to grab his arm, but it was like a child trying to hold back a Clydesdale, his super-soldier strength bulling him over the other's laughing objections. Peggy smiled at him, not hesitating to return his strong embrace and lusty kisses. 

"Can this be good enough?" Steve whined playfully against Peggy's ruined lipstick and she laughed warmly.

"They'd be so disappointed, Darling."

"Fine. But later..." his playful leer was stopped when Betsy swatted his shoulder, making Steve jump in surprise. He'd effectively forgotten where they were and blushed furiously, stepping back and removing his roving hands. "Sorry."

Even the minister laughed at that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thsi is sappy and sweet and I will make no apologise for it! These two deserve it.

The minister-- Steve for the life of him could not keep the guy's name in his fool head-- wryly agreed that the impromptu little ceremony would be short and they'd all have to make it up as they went along. The inside of the ruins were carpeted in grass and flowers, a few of which replaced the now-pathetic little bouquet that Steve had crushed half to death between his and Peggy's bodies. Lavender smeared across both their chests and the familiar, sweet fragrance accompanying them was proof of that. He was going to find the tiny little purple buds in his underwear at the rate they fell out of his jacket earlier. 

The witnesses ranged themselves out informally, a protective near-circle around the smitten lovers who barely paid a lick of attention to the lilting French of the minister. It was Phillips that reached out and cuffed Steve on the shoulder to snap him out of it a mere moment before Bucky would have smacked him in the head.

"You're next," the older man muttered at Peggy with false irritation that made her grin. "Say somethin' nice, you meathead."

"Right, right," Steve blustered, rubbing the back of his head as though still anticipating Bucky's blow. "So, Erskine was the first who saw that I could be more, but you really made me believe it. Better than that, you liked me for what I was, long before I looked like this. That will always warm my heart, Peggy. And yeah, you might be the first pretty dame I actually got to talk to, much less anythin' else," he flushed lightly at the gentle chuckling of the assembly, "but that's only some of what made me fall for you. I dunno that I could pin it down, but it sure happened fast." Leaning down to press his forehead to Peggy's, Steve searched for words, but all he could come up with was a thick-voiced, "glad I found you, or you found me or whatever. Love you so much."

Peggy kissed his cheek, catching the salt of a tear and leaning back to wipe at his watering eyes, ignoring her own for the moment.

"You certainly were a force of nature I never expected, but I understood Abraham's work better than most and never saw you as a waste of time. Then you had to go and figure out the flagpole challenge and I knew there was even more to you than I'd originally thought. When you threw yourself on that grenade you brave idiot, I was a goner. While I've no complaints about your lovely chassis now, I would have loved you no matter what the angle was to look into your eyes, my darling."

They were oblivious of the audience again, arms draped around one another, swaying slightly to a tune only they could hear.

"You make me feel lovely and girlish without feeling weak and it's a gift, Steve."

The minister sighed with amused resignation as the couple kissed leisurely, clearly quite finished with words. Only his exasperated asking after the rings brought their attention back to the task at hand. Both sweetly embarrassed, they went for the small but meaningful gifts from those considered family, Steve in his pocket, Peggy tucked into the shadows of her cleavage. Steve startled at the familiar sight of the battered costume jewelry and his gaze jerked over to Bucky, who only smiled. Peggy missed the silent exchange, picking at the small length of silky nylon string she'd tied to the ring to keep track of it with. Once freed, she pressed it into Steve's hand, drinking up the same nostalgic smile that had graced Bucky's face the day before. In turn, he passed over the scuffed, plain gold band she didn't recognize but felt she should.

"You ready for this?"

Steve's question sounded as nervous and giddy as she felt, both of them burst into giggling when they both went to echo the simple vows of the minister before Peggy nudged Steve to take the lead this time. In gentle whispers, they repeated the stranger's tender words, Steve in the melodious tongue of the land around them and Peggy in the language they shared, no matter the differences in how it sounded from each.

 _"Je promets de t'aimer ,_ / I promise to love you ,  
_de t’être fidèle,_ / to be loyal to you,  
_de te chérir,_ / to cherish you,  
_supporter,_ / to support,  
_et respecter,_ / and to respect,  
_jusqu’à ce que la mort nous sépare._ / until death separates us."

There wasn't a dry eye beneath the cathedral of trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that they final dialog bit is formatted all wrong, but I hope the point was conveyed anyway.


	18. Chapter 18

The mood was lightened with the absurdity of the ill-fitting rings, Steve's barely making it over the first knuckle and Peggy's loose to the point of being comical, but then Steve was inspired, kneeling to ruffle the grass until he spotted the piece of string discarded by Peggy earlier. 

"What are you up to?"

"Here, lemme show you."

Pulling out his pocket knife-- because he was never without one-- Steve brought up her hand to tuck the thin white rope behind the ring, pressing a lingering kiss there, her skin and the cool metal and the whisper of nylon a symphony of sensation. Asking her to make a fist, he knotted the string just against her flesh and made a neat, simple knot before cutting it close and kissed the spot once more.

"That's a promise, Peggy. Someday, it'll be more than string and tin."

She wanted to tease him, to scoff that things meant little to her, just the adoration in his blue eyes, but she held her tongue and nodded before reaching for the remaining string and repeating the process on his large hand.

"A promise," she echoed back and the minister decided there was little to add to that, declaring them husband and wife. The great whoop of sound scared the birds out of the trees and the newlyweds got in a quick, loving kiss before the others descended in a wall of congratulations. It was greatly amusing that the Commandos kissed Steve's face as enthusiastically as Peggy's, every bit as loud and boisterous, even Falsworth forgetting his British stiff-upper-lip stoicism as much as the wildly grinning Peggy.

Passed around from hug to hug, Peggy was saved from a very awkward moment with Janet by an unexpected embrace from Chester Phillips. It was brief, but heartfelt, an actual smile playing about his careworn face, and Peggy's wild smile gentled as she realized where she recognized the battered ring she'd put on Steve minutes earlier. "Thank you."

Again Phillips quirked a smile, one tender and a little sad. "My pleasure, kid. Clara would have liked you. Now, you better go save that stallion of yours before the other idiots embarrass him."

Peggy was content to allow him his utterly faked gruffness to cover the mistiness in his eyes, the old goat. "Yes sir," she murmured with far more fondness than was appropriate for the normally formal address. Rounding out her team, she mockingly berated them to uproariously laughter as a couple of bottles of halfway decent wine appeared along with battered plastic cups form the mess hall supplies. Steve waved away a separate glass with a smile, his arm solid around his new wife's waist. "No, we'll share. She's not drinking much and the stuff does nothing for me."

"Oh dear, bossing me about already, husband?" Peggy teased to get an exasperated look and a kiss amid more amusement from the party.

"To Peggy and Steve," Dugan bellowed and was echoed by the others, glasses held aloft in toast. After the obligatory sip-- though she stole a second mouthful as it was actually a decent wine-- Peggy was fine with handing the glass off so Steve could knock the rest back. Then it was time for a badly needed brunch, the happy couple starved by their enhanced metabolisms. Betty found some cord so that they could string their ill-fitting but meaningful rings about their necks and not worry about losing them.

Fortified with soup and sandwiches, the group of them lazed about in the dappled sun, having sent the minister home with a solid meal in thanks. Peggy was feeling real contentment, leaning against Steve where they took up much of a canvas drop cloth thoughtfully provided by Martha. Somehow, Peggy knew she should have expected it, yet Junior took her by surprise.

"So, tell us the story!"

There was a wave of protest from the Commandos that included several cuffs to the head to the baby-faced lad, though Steve cracked up. "C'mon, Pegs, you'd have been offended if he didn't ask and you know it."

It was odd sometimes to be so transparent to someone else, but Peggy gave him a warm smooch anyway. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Oh do lay off him, you mongrels. Hmm... let's see..."

Phillips and the women from camp were baffled as to what could have these hardened warriors squirming with anticipation like little boys, but waited as Peggy's expression suddenly cleared and she launched into her familiar soliloquy about the unexpected tornado tearing through the English countryside in nineteen twenty mumble, mumble, down the peaceful little valley and through a grove of leaf-heavy trees this time. "And the storm sucked up every leaf, pressing them together with wind and ice and pure patriotism until they fell as perfectly pressed American greenbacks." The great roar of familiar amusement made Chester and the trio of women not used to this routine jump in surprise. "Once the bank straightened everything out, it was a very good Christmas for the village."

"Nicely done," Steve complimented as he nuzzled Peggy's ear and continued to chuckle as she drank up her loved ones around her on this perfect day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The string thing here was completely spontaneous. Thank you muses!
> 
> Of the tornado story: The leaves from the trees becoming money? Yeah, I made this whim of a thought work for me... I think. (Personal note from 5-6-15, when I was writing this.)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when these two are sassy and playful. Little makes me happier.

There were a few little gifts from the wedding party; a tin of sweets, a couple of pairs of nylons for Peggy, a box of condoms that made Steve give the laughing Commandos a put-upon glare that just made them laugh harder. Peggy merely rolled her eyes and pelted them with orange peels. Janet had brought two of her dwindling stash of the fruit, knowing how Peggy loved them and Steve took great pleasure in pressing out the evil little seeds before feeding her the pieces, stashing the second one away for a more intimate reenactment later when they didn't have company. Rations awaited them in the Jeep being left behind for their use, along with enough to barter with in the village where they'd be staying for a few days of honeymoon.

But, as all good things must, the event came to a natural close with Peggy's exhausted yawn and adorably rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child. It was impossibly endearing and Steve set the guys on rigging up one of the tarps so that he could get her out of the dappled sun for a nap.

The newlyweds sent the others off with hugs for all, the only exception being Steve shaking hands with Phillips, who clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. Peggy lingered over giving Bucky a squeeze until he finally relaxed enough to return the gesture and the trio of Peggy's women friends giggled when Steve swept them into one big embrace. Then the party piled into the two trucks and drove off to leave peaceful quiet in their wake. It was a perfect cue for Steve to leer and Peggy took flight with a laugh. Like children, they chased each other through the ruins and around the Jeep, Peggy swatting Steve's rump and his returning the playful blows, adding silly kissy faces to the merriment. Finally though, he caught her, swept her up to be kissed properly, murmuring adoration against her flushed cheeks.

"Couldn't have asked for a nicer day," Steve murmured as he mouthed her ear and neck, drinking up the low, throaty chuckle.

"Yes, quite. Couldn't have hardly ordered a nicer day. Smashing excuse for a little garden party."

"Yeah, it was nice, havin' a few friends over just for the hell of it."

The banter was such a part of them, the thrum of amusement and adoration that burned between them like a filament in a light bulb. Stumbling from the distraction of his now-wife's kisses, Steve managed to get them gracelessly to the canopy rigged alongside the Jeep.

"Best I can do to carry you over the threshold."

"Oh, Steve, don't fret. It's lovely. I fear I'm going to fall asleep on you."

"I know, sweetheart, I'm looking forward to it. Just let me strip down to my t-shirt."

"You'll give me ideas."

"Oh, poor me."

How he loved the gleam in her rich, dark eyes, the feline curl to her red-painted mouth, disheveled now from their kisses. Once they were settled, Peggy imperiously clambered onto his big frame to drape herself all over him, head tucked along his neck, breath warm and cool under his jaw. Blissfully content, Steve ran gentle hands up and down her back, imagining he could feel the peach-sized lump that was their child, pressed between their two bodies.

"Love you," Peggy slurred sleepily, already limp and near to sleep, knowing to her bones she was as safe as she would ever be with him and basking in the stress-free mental space. It was mutual, Steve never forgetting how he learned so much at her hand before science made him what he had become.

"I love you too, Peggy. Rest now."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, at last we come to the end of part 3. It's been and enjoyable and will continue to be so!
> 
> I'll be taking a week off or so from posting, readers, so that I don't fall too far behind in my writing. Have no fear, Part 4 is done, but 5 languishes due to other projects. Stay tuned!

It may have been the near-absolute quiet that woke Peggy, she was unsure. Nothing more than the faint drone of insects and the rustle of leaves accompanied the small sounds of their combined breathing and a sheep bleating off in the distance. She was reminded of the few trips to the countryside when she was a child, a coveted memory of her parents and baby brother she hoarded close to her heart. Today was filed away beside those to be treasured for all her days. Shifting a bit, Peggy pressed her ear more firmly to Steve's chest and listened intently to his now-strong heart. It was a shame really, that she didn't have more memories of his small, weak self to hoard beside these, no memories of his stuttering heart and labored lungs. Still, she had known him as well as anyone, inexplicably loved and admired the lad.

Carefully raising herself up to look at his sleeping face, Peggy couldn't resist stroking the strong nose and jaw, the soft, well-formed mouth, grinning when his lips began to curl up beneath her fingers and his eyes fluttered open. Sometimes the naked adoration and want in that crystal blue gaze stole her breath away.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough."

There was no need to whisper, but somehow it felt more intimate in the quiet of the afternoon. They fell naturally into slow, drugging kisses, hands caressing leisurely, Steve pausing when he found the zipper up the back of the red dress.

"Y'know, I never did get a chance to get you out of these pretty rags."

"You did not. I was quite annoyed with you that night."

"I looked for you."

"Yes, Gabby was rather upset with being surprised by you."

"Yeah, I'll be glad that never went any further than that. So embarrassing."

"Oh, my poor dear. That chair must have been frightfully uncomfortable."

"You definitely would have been better."

Steve's hands stilled and Peggy raised her head to give him a flat look that made him vacillate between apologetic and trying not to laugh. The later won out and in moments, they were both cracking up, Steve grabbing his jacket to roll her onto.

"You still can't talk to women, you fool."

"Good! The only one I'm ever gonna say that sorta thing to is you anyway, and you married me, remember?"

"Clearly, I must be off my nut."

"Quite," he stole her familiar reply, stealing away her sass with more kisses, gently tugging away the crimson fabric to get to her skin. The lovers had a couple nights of reunion between them, but the novelty of not needing the innocuous little rubbers was a novelty that hadn't at all grown old. Lost in one another, they made love there in the shade of the stretched tarp amidst the white summer flowers, bare and blended save the rings about their necks and the promise of forever tied around their fingers.


End file.
